A Place to Call Home
by JasmineRaven
Summary: A collection of stories from Barry's childhood, once he began living with Joe and Iris. The stories offers insight into the challenges they faced, the memories they made, and the way they came together to form a new family.
1. Chapter 1

**1\. Part of the Family**

The sound of her father, Joe, knocking on her bedroom door woke eleven year old Iris early that morning. Small beams of sunlight crept their way through the gaps in her purple curtains, threatening to illuminate the room and disturb her desirable sleeping conditions. She squinted, looking at her father as he entered the room. His casual attire of grey slacks and a white T-shirt suggested it would be an uneventful day at home; however, the fact he was waking her up, already dressed for the day, suggested there was something to be done.

"Time to wake up, Iris," he declared as he pulled open the curtains, allowing the sunlight to flood the room. The sun only shone with a mild to moderate brightness, indicating to Iris that it was quite early in the morning.

"But Dad, it's too early. I'm too tired," Iris whined. She pulled her blankets over her head to keep the sunlight out of her eyes.

"Barry and I are heading over to his house to collect more of his things and bring them back here," Joe informed her. "I need you to come with us." He proceeded to poke her continuously, hoping the gesture would irritate Iris enough to coax her out from under the blankets.

Iris poked her head out from under the blankets, like a turtle poking its head out of its shell. "Dad, do you think Barry will like being a part of our family?" she asked, her tone of voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Joe moved to sit beside Iris on the bed. He tugged playfully on a loose brown curl that appeared to have strayed from her ponytail and now dangled in front of her eyes. He released the curl, and watched it return to its coiled state, before brushing it off her face. He breathed a heavy sigh. "I don't know, baby. I think it'll be hard for him at first. It might always be hard for him. He might not want us to be his family. To him, it might feel like I'm trying to replace his Dad."

"I want to do everything I can to help him, Dad," Iris said with a smile and dark brown eyes full of sympathy for her best friend.

"That's great, sweetheart. I think it may be best if, at first, you give him his space. But make sure he knows you're here for him when he needs you. Then, if he needs your help, he'll come to you," Joe explained. "You think you can do that?"

Iris nodded in response. "You can count on me, Dad."

A smile spread across Joe's face. "That's my girl," he said softly. He kissed her on the forehead before getting up and exiting the room.

Iris pulled her tired body out of bed. She looked at her messy hair in the mirror and dreaded the idea of attempting to get a brush through it. Her matted curls resembled thousands of miniature springs tangled together in an unmanageable, knotted mess. With her eyes only half open, she wandered sluggishly down the hallway. As she passed the bedroom that was now Barry's, she curiously peered through the crack in the door. Barry's face was locked in a sombre expression. His eyes seemed to gaze at nothing as he sat on the bed, staring blankly at he wall. Seeing him in such a state forced Iris' heart to sink deep into her chest. Her best friend was struggling painfully and, at this point in time, there was nothing she could to do the help him.


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. Here**

The atmosphere at the West family's dinner table had seemed awkward and uncomfortable all week, at least from Iris' perspective. The symphony of forks and knives clanging and scraping against plates, with the occasional verse of awkward conversation from Joe, grew more and more unbearable to hear by the minute. Barry never spoke at dinner time; he rarely ate either. Iris watched him twirled his fork amongst his food, painting his plate with mashed potato and pumpkin. Occasionally, he would scoop up a blob on his fork and raise it to his mouth, only to grimace and lower it back down to the plate.

After dinner, while Barry went for a shower, Iris assisted her father with the washing up. She watched the hot water gush out of the tap and begin to fill the sink, as she mentally debated whether or not to instigate a conversation with her father about her current feelings and thoughts.

"I think he hates me, Dad," she said eventually with a sigh, submerging her gloved hands in the hot, soapy water. "He won't talk to me at all. I feel like I've done something to make more upset."

Joe shook his head. "You haven't done anything wrong, Iris," he assured her. "It's only been a week. He'll start talking more and acting more like his old self when he's ready. I told you, it may take time."

"I miss seeing him happy," Iris said solemnly, passing her father a plate to dry. "I know it sounds selfish, but I want my best friend back. I doubt he'll ever be happy again. If I ever lost you, I know I'd never be happy again."

Joe put his arm comfortingly around his daughter and pulled her closer to him. "But you would find a way to live with it, and Barry will too. It probably won't be any less painful, but it'll become bearable. Just give him time."

That night, Iris lay awake in bed, staring at her dark surroundings until the black nothing began to morph into the familiar image of her bedroom. She searched every crevice in her brain for an idea, or even the mere foundation of an idea, for how she could help Barry. _There is so much I want to say to him_ , she thought to herself. _But he'll barely look at me, let alone speak to me. I just want to talk with him and make him feel better._

Suddenly, light pierced into the room as someone opened the door. Barry stood in the doorway, clutching a pillow and blanket in his arms. "Hi Iris," he mumbled, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, his eyes focussed on the floor. "I was just wondering... could I maybe sleep on the floor in here tonight. I don't really want to sleep alone."

"Sure," Iris answered kindly. She climbed out of bed and searched her room for spare pillows and blankets to make Barry's stay more comfortable.

Barry spread out his blanket on the floor next to Iris' bed and placed his pillow at one end, creating something resembling a bed for himself. "I hope I'm not bothering you, Iris. It's just that... I've been having bad nightmares lately." He forced the words out as if they had been choking him. Once the words were spoken, an expression of relief spread across his face.

Iris shook her head and smiled. "It's fine, Barry. You're always welcome. And if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here."


	3. Chapter 3

**3\. I Got You**

Over the next six months, Joe watched as Barry's default mood transitioned from shock and fear to anger. He witnessed countless angry outbursts and grew used to the abrupt sound of slamming doors. He dealt with Barry's attempts to runaway and visit his father in jail and copped the brutal silent treatment at least twice a week. He found himself repetitively shot with painful _I-hate-you_ s and _you're-not-my-real-father_ s, but Joe refused to let the sting of the words linger for too long. He knew Barry didn't mean it. He just needed time to heal from the traumatic experience life had unfairly put him through at such a young age. Nevertheless, Joe remained determined to bring joy back into Barry's life.

"Iris, do you happen to know what Barry's favourite food is?" Joe quietly asked his daughter one afternoon. "He hasn't eaten much at all this week, so I want to make him a dinner he'll enjoy."

"He always used to say he loved macaroni and cheese," Iris answered, briefly looking up from the book she had been immersed in.

"Alright," Joe said, clapping his hands together. "I'll make him some mac and cheese. That ought to cheer him up a bit."

Since Barry seemed to prefer being alone, Joe waited until he and Iris had eaten dinner before calling him out to the dining room and serving him the plate of warm, creamy macaroni and cheese.

Young Barry stared blankly at the meal in front of him. "No thank you," he murmured politely, as he hung his low to avoid eye contact.

Joe noticed the hint of sadness his voice, which caused him to think that maybe all Barry's anger was simply a mask to hide his true feelings of depression and pain. "Iris says that mac and cheese is your favourite," he said in an attempt to encourage the boy to eat.

"I'm not hungry," Barry mumbled, the melancholy in his voice becoming more evident.

"It's been six months, Barry. You've got to eat something," Joe said sternly.

As if consumed by a sudden burst of anger, Barry forcefully shoved the plate away from his chest. He then relaxed his arms and rested them on the table in front of him.

"It's a good move, being angry all the time," Joe complimented insincerely, deliberately, to lead into what Iris would refer to as one of his 'Dad-talks'. "I get it. You miss your mum and dad and you want to show them that you're strong. Being mad makes it easy. The tougher thing to do would be to let yourself feel."

Over his years serving in the police force, Joe had watched several of his colleagues, both men and women, become deeply affected by things they witnessed or experienced on the job. Some dealt with the lingering images horrific, gruesome crime scenes, while others carried the burden of injuring someone, perhaps fatally, in order to save the lives of many civilians. No matter the circumstance, the attitude towards that person was always the same: it was perfectly okay for a grown adult, regardless of their gender, to cry.

"It's okay to be sad," Joe continued. "You can be sad, Barry. Your parents will understand if you're not strong all the time." Joe leaned in a little closer to Barry and put his arm around his shoulders. "That is why I'm here."

Barry sat silently for a brief moment, breathing heavily. As tears began welling up in his eyes, he stood up abruptly, turned around to face Joe and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

"It's okay, son," Joe soothed, slightly surprised by Barry's sudden willingness to let his feelings flow freely. He put his arms around Barry and rested his hand gently on the back of the sobbing boy's head. "I got you."

Now, Joe realised it would have been impossible to make Barry happy that day. Barry didn't need to feel happy just yet. He needed to feel sad.


	4. Chapter 4

**4\. Fear of the Dark**

First, the lights flickered. Then, darkness flooded the room. Not even the light from the street lamps shone through the windows. Barry gnawed at his lip anxiously. His eyes searched frantically for familiar objects, but found himself completely surrounded by the looming blackness.

"Looks like the power is out," Joe commented. Barry heard the sound of the wooden chair legs scraping across the ground as he rose from his chair. "I'll go find some flashlights and candles."

Barry blinked repetitively in a desperate attempt to force his vision to adjust to dark. Slowly, the outline of some objects came back into focus. He could make out the faint outline of Iris' face in front of him. She appeared relaxed as she continued to eat her dinner.

A bright light flooded the room as Joe returned carrying two large flashlights, as well as a box of candles and matches. "Let there be light!" he exclaimed jokingly, setting the box down on the table. "It was so hard to find these things. I kept wishing I had a flashlight with me," he chuckled.

"Dad, please no more lame jokes," Iris groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood," Joe said, then laughed again at his own joke. "Lighten the mood. Get it? Alright, I'll stop now."

Barry knew what Joe was trying to do. Joe knew about Barry's fear of the dark, which had only intensified after his mother's tragic death, and he was attempting help Barry relax by using humour.

Every night, when Barry lay alone in the darkness of his bedroom, he worried obsessively that his nightmares would come to life in front of him. Except, his nightmares no longer featured growling monsters with fierce, yellow eyes and gnashing teeth. Now, he worried continuously about a man surrounded by lightning zapping into his room to hurt him or someone he loved. The most frightening thing about that nightmare was that it wasn't a nightmare. The man in the lightening murdered his mother, whether people believed it or not.

After dinner, while Iris was taking a shower, Barry sat on the couch, clutching a flashlight tightly in his hands. Joe wandered over and sat down beside him. "The power should come back on soon, Barry. If not, you can keep one of these flashlights in your room tonight. I'm going to give on to Iris too," he said comfortingly.

"I feel stupid for being afraid of the dark, but I also feel like the fear is never going to go away," Barry sighed, resting his head back against the couch.

"Hey, remember how we had that discussion about it being okay to be sad? Well, it's also okay to be afraid," Joe told him. "Everyone's afraid of something, even grown ups. Sometimes they just pretend they're not afraid. And maybe your fear of the dark will go away as you get older, but there's a good chance a new fear will just come along to replace it. But that's okay. Maybe a part of you will always feel a little nervous about the dark. That's okay too. I'm hear to help you with your fears whatever they are, and as long as they last."

Barry stood up from the couch. Images of his mother tucking him into bed and comforting him, speaking to him softly until he drifted off to sleep, replayed in his mind. The feeling of longing to be with her tugged at his heart until it tore it in two. The pain was unbearable, like being starving with no food in sight. It made him feel sick. He missed her now more than ever. "I'm sorry, Joe," he whispered, his voice croaking as he attempted to hold back his tears long enough for him to speak. "It's just... my mum always managed to make me feel better about the dark... and now she's gone." Finally, he allowed the tears to flow from his eyes and trickle down his cheeks, as he raced away to his bedroom.

The following afternoon, Barry and Iris answered Joe's booming call for them to join him in the living room. In his hands, Joe held two books. "I stopped by the bookstore today and thought I'd pick you guys up a little something each." He paused and handed the first book to Iris. It was pink with a floral pattern and the words _Girl_ _Talk_ in bold across the front. "Now Iris, you're growing up real fast, and you're going to start going through changes..."

"Dad!" Iris groaned in embarrassment. Barry watched as a swell of red developed in her smooth, brown cheeks. She pressed her hands against her ears in an attempt to block out the awkward conversation she knew was about to take place.

"Let me finish, Iris," Joe scolded gently. "Now, you're going to go through lots of new things physically, mentally, emotionally, at school, amongst your friends, and while I'm always here to help you the best I can, there are things I won't be able to relate to, not being a woman myself. And I don't want you to miss out on getting the help and information you need, just because your mothers's not here anymore."

Iris cringed as she stared at the book, but eventually her grimace faded into a smile. "Thank you, Dad," she expressed her appreciation and walked over to give him a hug.

"No problem, sweetheart," Joe replied, hugging her back. "Now, for Barry." Joe pulled out a book with pictures of shadows on the front of it. _The Science of Light and Darkness_ , the title read. "Instead of trying not to think about the dark, I thought maybe you should think about it, and learn about it. I know you love science, Barry, and there is plenty of science behind light, darkness, shadows, colours, reflections, and the way we see things."

Barry smiled so wide his cheeks began to ache. "Thank you, Joe!" he exclaimed. "It's perfect!"


	5. Chapter 5

**5\. Fight**

Young Barry dashed around the corner and weaved through the crowd of students as fast as his legs would carry him. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. The squeak of Tony Woodward's shoes against the floor grew more ear-piercing as the boy approached. Barry found himself in a quieter part of the school building. Only a few students loitered, minding their own business.

"Barry Allen. Did you really think you could run away from me?" Tony said in a sly tone, with a sadistic grin spread across his face.

"Please, leave me alone," Barry stammered. He tried to walk past Tony, but the other students in hall crept up and grabbed him from behind. _Of course, they're all Tony's friends_ , Barry groaned internally. He looked up at Tony, who towered over him.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have whinged to people about me shoving you this morning. You seem to have this crazy idea that if you get enough people on your side, I'll stop. Well, you're wrong," Tony snarled, his face just inches from Barry's. He held his clenched fist up next to Barry's face threateningly, so that his knuckles just touched the skin of his cheek. The muscles in his arm bulged.

"I didn't whinge to anyone. People saw and asked if I was okay. Iris explained what happened," Barry mumbled, not daring to speak too loud. He struggled to free himself from the grasp of Tony's friends, but the boys just tightened their grip.

"Don't blame your weakness on Iris! And I was just speaking the truth. Your father is a criminal. A freak! Looks like being a freak runs in the family," Tony taunted. His lackeys burst into snickering laughter, in response to their leader's twisted humour.

Tears began to well up in Barry's eyes. They threatened to fall, threatened to make him appear weak. "I'm not afraid of you, Tony," he declared, blinking away the tears and standing up as straight as he could. Without warning, Tony fist connected with his left cheek. The blow threw him off balance and sent him crashing to the ground. The tears in his eyes began to trickle down his face.

"Look, he's crying!" Tony laughed, pointing at Barry in amusement. "What are you going to do, Barry? Run and cry to your mummy? Something tells me she won't be much help now."

Barry felt the fear and pain inside of him transform into fiery anger, fuelled by Tony's taunts and threats. He lunged at Tony and grabbed him by the shoulders, but Tony shoved him to the ground, as if he weighed no more than a twig. Tony stood over Barry, who was lying on the ground, and started to kick him. Then, he pulled him up and shoved him against the wall, preparing to punch him again.

Tony's fist was just an inch from Barry's nose when the booming voice of a teacher echoed in the hall. "Woodward! Allen! Principal's office. Now!"

The principal insisted that both Barry and Tony be sent home from school and arranged to talk with Tony's parents about the incident, but Barry knew no punishment would ever stop Tony from harassing him. The principal acknowledged that Barry had attacked Tony too, but let him off with a warning, since Barry had fared far worse in the fight, which seemed punishment enough.

Barry sat on the couch at home, holding ice packs on his bruised ribs and face. At first, the cold sensation seemed to make the ache worse. Soon, however, the pain began to dull, until his cheek and side almost felt completely numb.

"Is that ice making it feel better, son?" Joe asked, concerned.

Barry nodded.

Joe moved to sit beside Barry on the couch. "Is there anything I can do to help this Tony situation?"

"Can you put him in jail?" Barry asked, half joking, half serious.

Joe smiled. "I'm afraid I can't do that." He paused for a moment, contemplating the best way to handle the situation. "Look, I know most people would say to use the old 'ignore it until it stops' method, but I don't believe in that. If someone is out to physically harm you, I believe you have the right to defend yourself. Just as long as you never attack first, you understand?"

Barry nodded in agreement, then sighed. "I'll still end up beaten up anyway," he mumbled. "I'm a twig compared to Tony."

"Fighting isn't all about size," Joe told him. "It's about knowing the right way to fight, and not just attacking wildly and blindly. You have to stay focussed. How about, when your bruises are healed, I teach you a bit of boxing? I used to teach Iris when she was younger."

Barry smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks Joe!"

oOo

That weekend, Barry, Joe and Iris went to the park. A light, cool breeze swept through almost continuously, while the warm sun beamed down on them. Joe handed Barry and Iris a pair of boxing gloves each.

"Iris, do you want to go first to show Barry what to do?" Joe asked his daughter.

"Sure!" Iris said with a smile. Joe knelt in position on the ground and held up his hands. Iris stood in front of him with a strong stance. She started to punch firmly at her father's hands. Her movements were strong and deliberate, and her eyes stayed focussed on her father.

"Your turn now, Barry," Joe called once Iris was finished. Barry stood in front of Joe. He tried his best to stand strong. He started to punch at Joe's hands. The more he punched, the more he thought of Tony. The boy's harsh words echoed in his mind. The sound of his laughter continued to ring in his ears.

"Come on, Barry! You can do it!" Iris' shouts of encouragement brought him back to reality. He realised that his punches were not landing strong and firm, the way Iris' had. Instead, his fists were flying wildly, punching the air more than Joe's hands.

"Barr, focus!" Joe instructed him.

"I'm trying," Barry groaned, in exhaustion and frustration.

"Son, son, son," Joe said calmly, as he gently grabbed hold of Barry's boxing gloves. "You're getting frustrated. You need to learn how to control your emotions." He gestured to his daughter. "Iris, come here, sweetie!" he called her over.

"You want me to hit a girl?" Barry asked in a worried tone, as Iris came to stand in front of him.

"He wants you to try," Iris replied.

Barry blushed, unsure if Iris was serious or joking. He hadn't meant to belittle. He just hated the idea of hurting his friend.

"Relax, Barry. I've had her in gloves since she was three. She's tougher than she looks," Joe assured him.

Barry and Iris both raised their gloves, preparing to fight. Barry swung his fist towards Iris' head, but she immediately ducked to dodge the attack. He aimed again at her face, but she blocked his punch and retaliated. She punched him firmly in the stomach, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor.

"Sorry, Barry," she apologised, as she helped him to his feet.

Humiliation and disappointment caused Barry's face to redden and his heart to sink. He prepared to walk away and give up, but Joe came up behind him and put his arms around him.

"Sometimes, the best way to win a fight is not to start one," Joe explained. "But, if you do come up against somebody you know you can't beat, be smart. It's okay to run the other way. Alright?"

Barry nodded. _I'll never be strong or a good fighter_ , he thought to himself. _But I know I can be smart._


	6. Chapter 6

**6\. Missing Out**

"Dad, you really don't need to walk me to the front door," Iris insisted, with a subtle grimace on her face, as if she was already anticipating embarrassment of some sort.

"I just want to meet Ebony's mother first," Joe told her. "I've never met her, and if you're going to be at her house for the day, I'd like to know a bit about her." Iris had greeted him excitedly on Friday afternoon, asking permission to spend Saturday with her friends Ebony, Gemma and Alana at Ebony's house. He had agreed, despite not knowing the parents, because he knew if he didn't, he would be the one hosting three extra twelve year old girls.

Joe walked towards the house, with Iris and Barry by his side, and knocked on the front door. It opened, revealing a tall woman with pale skin and reddish-brown hair cropped around her face. "Hi," she greeted him warmly. "You must be Iris' father. I'm Andrea."

"Joe," he replied, extending his hand, which she shook firmly. "It's nice to meet you." He looked at Iris. Her brown eyes seemed to be begging him to leave and let her have fun. _Well, the woman hardly seems like a serial killer_ , he thought to himself. _I suppose I should go now._ "I should be going now," he said, as he slowly began to walk away from the house, with Barry following close behind him. "I'll pick you up around two, Iris."

"Why don't you come in?" Andrea offered, a smile beaming across her face. "The other girls' mums are staying for a cup of coffee. You're welcome to stay too, if you want."

Joe shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got Barry with me, and..."

"Oh, that's alright," Andrea interrupted. "Barry can hang out with the girls for a while. Ebony's little brother is with them too. I'm sure they won't mind."

Joe looked at Barry. The boy smiled and seemed to agree with the idea. They followed Andrea into the living room. The white walls looked like pages of a scrapbook, covered in family photos. A brown couch sat positioned in front of a large television and a mahogany coffee table. Off to the side was a kitchen and dining room. Two women, approximately the same age as Andrea, sat at the wooden dining table, both with a steaming cup of coffee in their hands and a small plate of biscuits in front of them.

"Ladies, this is Joe," Andrea declared. "Joe, this is Nicole and that's Courtney." She gestured to the women, who each gave a subtle wave in response.

Joe looked around for Barry and Iris, but they appeared to have already run off to play. _So, I guess it's just me and the mothers_ , he thought to himself, feeling slightly apprehensive. He took a seat next to Nicole. Looking through the sliding glass door, he could easily pick Nicole's daughter from the group, as they shared similar appearance traits, with their thick brown hair, brown eyes and olive skin. Across from them sat Courtney. To Joe, the woman's make-up seemed excessive, with pink eye shadow, thick foundation, and so much mascara her eyelashes looked like spider legs.

Andrea placed a cup of coffee in front of him and took a seat. "Ebony and I had a lovely mother-daughter day last weekend," she began, sparking a conversation. "We went to the salon and got our nails done together."

"I took Gemma to the salon the other day too," Nicole chimed in. "She's inherited my bushy eyebrows and hairy legs. Some of the girls at school were giving her a hard time about it, so we went and she got her legs and eyebrows waxed."

Joe cringed at the thought of having hair ripped out voluntarily.

"It must be hard for Iris, not having a mother," Courtney commented in a seemingly sympathetic way, although her face maintained its scowl-like expression.

"Well, uh, we manage to get by," Joe stammered, fidgeting nervously. "We, um, we do things together. And she paints her nails sometimes. I honestly don't know how she gets it so neat. I would have stuff all over my fingers, you know." He let out a forced laugh, in attempt to hide his insecurity. Perhaps Iris was missing out on part of her life, not having a mother.

"Have you thought about finding a woman?" Courtney asked, quite rudely, although she seemed to have no real intention of offending him. If anything, she seemed concerned.

"Courtney!" Andrea interjected abruptly. "I'm sure Iris is doing just fine with Joe. She's a lovely young lady. Her and Barry actually helped Ebony with her homework last week. That sat down with her at lunch and went through it with her until she understood it."

Joe smiled at Andrea and nodded, as a way of thanking her silently. Then, he kept his eyes on his cup of coffee, hoping to stay out of the remainder of the conversation.

"Well, I did Alana's makeup for the first time last weekend," Courtney informed them. "We were going out for a special family dinner. She always asking about wearing makeup, and I've been telling her to wait a bit, but that night I gave in. Oh, she looked so beautiful."

Joe sat in silence for the rest of the morning, listening to the children playing together outside. Iris and Barry seemed happy, kicking the soccer ball around, cheering and shouting. _But does Iris ever feel like she's missing out? Am I doing enough for her? Man, where's the single parents handbook when you need it?_

oOo

That afternoon, Iris sat on the couch, scanning through channels on the television. Joe moved to sit next to her. "Iris, how do you... uh... feel about your eyebrows?" he asked awkwardly.

Iris shot him a confused glance, her brow crinkled. "Dad, are you okay?"

Joe sighed and slumped heavier into the couch, so it almost consumed him. "Talking with those girls' mothers about salon visits, nail polish, makeup, and waxing just made me wonder whether you ever feel like you're missing out."

Iris shook her head and smiled. "Dad, I don't feel like I'm missing out," she assured him. "I like doing things with you and Barry." She crossed her arms. "Besides, just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean I'm into all that beauty stuff, at least not yet."

Joe reached over and put him arm around her shoulders. "Promise me you'll tell me if you ever feel like you're missing out on something."

"I promise," Iris answered happily, leaning her head against her father's shoulder. "Besides, why would somebody want to get waxed? It would be so painful!"

"I know!" Joe exclaimed, shuddering at he thought. "I think I'd rather we all play soccer at the park than get our hair ripped out together."


End file.
